


During the Storm

by Scylla87



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aggravation, Angst, Brotherhood without Banners AU, F/M, Increasingly Explicit Smut, Masturbation, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, Wet Dream, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2020-10-06 01:44:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20498843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scylla87/pseuds/Scylla87
Summary: Separated from the rest of the Brotherhood and forced to take shelter from a wicked storm in the nearest inn, things get a little tense when Arya and Gendry are forced to share a very small bed. (Takes place a few years in the future in a world where they both stayed with the Brotherhood. Arya's age left ambiguous, so you can make her whatever age you feel comfortable with. I tagged this underage to err on the side of caution.)





	1. Discoveries

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a story that popped into my head. I meant for it to be a lot more smutty, but as I was writing it, that part didn't feel right. I am not above sticking them in that room for a couple of days and making those two work it out though. Let me know if you'd like to see that part too...

Chapter 1: Discoveries

Arya woke to the wind howling viciously outside the window. It had been storming on and off for days, and she was glad that for once she wasn’t caught out in it. Still, just the sound outside sent a chill through her bones, and she burrowed deeper into the covers, the bed nice and warm, made less so by the blankets than by Gendry squeezed into the bed beside her.

Technically, the bed was too small for the both of them, something he had argued, but in the end, she had won the argument against him sleeping on the floor. He had tried to give her as much room as he could, but in their sleep, they had ended up pressed together again. One of his arms was even slung around her now, resting dangerously close to her breasts and something hard was pressed against her ass. She tried to remain as still as possible so as not to wake him up.

This was not the first time something like this had happened. In fact, it had happened with increasing frequency of late, every incident leading to more and more incidence from Gendry that they no longer share a bed. He would never explain to her why he would rather sleep on the floor than lie beside her, but she was vaguely aware that for her there was a connection between what she felt pressed against her and the wetness pooling between her thighs.

A couple of years before, during one of their many stops at the Peach with the Brotherhood, one of the whores had explained to her that the wetness she often felt was arousal. The woman had even laughed at Arya’s confusion. ‘Don’t you worry about it,’ she’d said, ‘The blacksmith makes us all a bit wet, if you know what I mean.’ Though Arya did not know what she meant, or why she assumed that it had anything to do with Gendry, the woman hadn’t explained further.

Carefully, she rubbed her legs together, something she had learned helped the ache a little. The action only ever dulled the sensation, but it was the only thing she’d found that did anything at all. She had tried spying on the whores at the Peach to see how they dealt with matters, but all she’d ever seen was them with men, never by themselves, which helped her none. If she asked, she was sure one of them would be kind enough to tell her, but the thought of talking about it always filled her with shame. Surely this was something she was meant to know about without being told. The one who’d been so surprised she hadn’t known what the wetness meant seemed to think so at least. ‘A girl of your age…’ she’d said. The memory sent the blood to Arya’s cheeks.

She tried to rack her brain for something she must have been told as a girl, some hint as to how to deal with the pressure she felt deep inside of her. The only thing that came to mind was Septa Mordane warning against touching herself. Though she’d never quite understood that one as a girl. This time the memory of that lesson was followed by the image of one of the whores with her hand between her legs as one of the men watched. The thoughts joined themselves in her mind even as she felt her face flush at the thought.

She glanced over her shoulder to make sure that Gendry was still sleeping before sliding her hand between her thighs. Nothing seemed to happen, there was no sense of relief. Careful not to move more than necessary, she slid her hand lower, pressing her fingers into the fabric of her smallclothes. There was a little relief but nothing like what she expected. She tired to remember what she’d seen, tried to figure out what she was doing wrong. The memory flashed before her eyes, the pieces falling into place.

She pulled her hand from where it lay and slid it into her smallclothes. Her fingers probed lower until they came in contact with the wetness she’d felt pooling between her thighs. Just running her fingers across that part of herself sent sparks through her body that she’d never felt before. She brushed across something else then that made her toes curl and her hips shift. A soft moan fell from her lips. She’d heard similar sounds coming from the whores at the Peach, but she’d never uttered anything like it herself. Another moan fell from her lips as she brushed against that same spot again. This moan was louder and followed by a groan she had not uttered.

Carefully, she froze, hand still buried deep in her smallclothes, and waited to see if Gendry had awoken. When no other noise came from his side of the bed, and she felt it safe to continue, she moved her fingers against the bump she’d found that seemed to give her so much pleasure. Her muscles tightened, even as the arm around her retreated. “What are you doing?” His voice was gruff and full of sleep. There was also a hint of fear she’d never heard in his voice before.

Arya froze again, afraid to move her hand from where it lay, unsure of how to answer his question. As she considered it, his hand came to rest on her arm, pulling gently until her hand was no longer hidden between her thighs. The room was filled with a musky smell all of the sudden, one she couldn’t quite place but suspected was her own somehow. The odor seemed to make things all the more tense as Gendry sighed in her ear, breath coming out in a huff against her neck. “You can’t do that while we’re in bed together,” he told her, voice even gruffer than before but in a way she didn’t recognize.

She wanted to deny what he was implying, to tell him he didn’t know what he was talking about, but the way he’d pulled her hand away from herself implied that he did. “Should I do it on the floor instead?” she whispered.

“No!” His voice came out desperate for some reason. “You can’t do that around me at all.” He said it with a kind of finality, like there was no room for argument.

She considered what he was saying. All she’d done was be curious, and here he was acting like she should have known better. “Why not?” she asked him, a bite in her tone to tell him that not answering would only led to an argument so he might as well tell her what she wanted to know.

He sighed heavily. “Don’t play dumb Arya. It’s just not something you do around other people.”

She considered that. So, her offense had been that he’d been here when she’d touched herself? She made note of that for the future and inquired further. “Have you ever done it then, when people weren’t around?”

The groan he gave sounded almost painful. “You can’t ask me things like that,” he said, voice muffled like he’d buried his face in the pillow.

His response annoyed her. All she’d done was ask a simple question. “I just wanted to know if it was normal is all. You don’t have to act like that about it,” she shot back.

The room was quiet for an especially long moment before he whispered, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“If it’s normal.” He sounded uncomfortable, like he wanted to crawl out of his skin. “For girls at least. Boys do it all the time.” She opened her mouth to speak. “Don’t even think of asking me why,” he snapped before she’d had the chance. He paused for a moment. “And don’t tell me about it if you decide to do it again.”

Arya considered the little bit he had told her. The biggest issue seemed to be that he was present during her exploration. “Should I go somewhere else then, to finish?”

A strangled noise escaped his throat. “I said don’t tell me!”

The soft whine in his voice caught her attention. He sounded almost pained like something horrible was happening to him. “And why not?”

He didn’t respond right away, instead the silence closed in around them until all there was to hear was their breathing and the beating of her heart. When he finally spoke, his words surprised her. “I try not to think of you that way.”

“What way?”

His hand squeezed her arm briefly and he sighed. “Like a woman.” He let out another heavy sigh. “We can’t do this anymore. Share a bed, I mean. We can still travel together if that is what you want, but it is best if we always get separate rooms from now on, when we can afford them. When we can’t, I’ll sleep on the floor or in the stables.” He paused again. “In the stables would be best.”

His words filled her with a rage she couldn’t quite understand. Just the indignity of his suggestion. She turned her head to look at him. “The stables?” she demanded to know. “You’d rather sleep with horses than with me?”

His mouth opened and closed as he struggled for words. “Well,” he finally said, “I’m less likely to dishonor the horses!”

His words caught her off guard, robbing her of speech. Her thoughts raced through her mind, the implication of what he was saying making itself clear in her mind. She was certain she must have misunderstood. Carefully, she tested the water. “Meaning, you wish to dishonor me?”

“Of course not!” he snapped. “I would never!”

“Then why sleep in the stables?”

His breath came out in huffs as he looked everywhere but at her. “It isn’t proper us sharing a bed anymore. If people were to know they might think that we had… that I had…” He seemed unable to finish the thought.

Her eyes narrowed at the implication he was hinting at. “Who says I even wanted to keep sharing a bed with you anyway?”

She rolled back over and glared off into the distance. As if he could ruin her! Ha. The whole notion was hilarious. She exhaled with a huff as the bed moved behind her. “Where the seven hells are you going?”

“To sleep on the floor.”

“Did I say I wanted you to sleep on the floor?”

He let out a small laugh as he settled into the bed again, as far away from her as possible. “As you wish milady.”

She was so mad she could hit him. Milady. He knew she hated him calling her that! It was almost as bad as all his talk of dishonoring her. She exhaled loudly again. Outside the storm continued to rage, only adding to her foul mood. If it kept up at the rate it was going, they’d be stuck in the inn another night at least. She wasn’t sure how she’d survive him if that happened.


	2. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the storm continues to rage outside, things heat up between Arya and Gendry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter turned out to be a bit later than I thought. Hopefully, this makes up for my tardiness. I went ahead and changed the rating to err on the side of caution. Let me know what you think.

Chapter 2: Confessions

Gendry awoke a few hours later, both slowly and all at once as lightning cracked in the very near distance. He groaned softly into the pillow, not for the first time cursing the storm that had landed him here, in this inn, in this bed, with… her. It was a special kind of hell the gods had designed just for him. Just at the thought of her, his flaccid cock twitched painfully beneath him. And that in and of itself was a bit of a nice change. It had been ages since he hadn’t woken up hard with even the most innocent thoughts about her. Or what passed for innocent thoughts inside his mind, and even those he was having trouble keeping from becoming overtly filthy just by their relation to the other things he thoughts about her. Some of those very thoughts were trying to push themselves to the forefront as he snoozed, trying to tell him something. An image flashed before him of Arya with her hand between her legs, and his cock gave another painful throb. He groaned again, a realization just on the edge of his consciousness. The bed was wet beneath him, whatever it was still warm but cooling rapidly. Dimly, he wondered what he could have rolled into. In answer, another very vivid image flashed though his mind. His eyes snapped open as realization dawned.

Not for the first time, a massive wave of guilt rolled over him. He had sworn to himself that he would never allow himself to get off at the thought of her, but once more his body had betrayed him. It had been a long time since that had happened, so long he had begun to imagine he had come sort of control. Though he never had been able to stop the dreams themselves, at least he always woke with his cock aching instead of spent beneath him with the faintest memories of what he was imagining about doing to Arya. It wasn’t right. She’d be disgusted if she knew what he had been thinking of. And if the rest of the Brotherhood ever found out… he’d never be allowed to even speak to her again and certainly he wouldn’t be allowed to be alone with her. Some of them already seemed to suspect. There had been mentions of the impropriety of them travelling together, of what people might think, of the importance that she return to her family intact. He hadn’t needed the reminder. One day soon they’d find one of her highborn relatives willing to pay for her, and she’d be sent away, off to marry some high lord while he’d be left behind, continuing to occasionally nut in his sleep at the thought of her. Or worse, bedding whores that looked enough like her for him to pretend. That last thought filled him with an even deeper shame. He’d only done that once, months ago when they were last at the Peach, but he swore he’d never do it again. The memory of the encounter came back to him unbidden.

An unfair part of him liked to blame Tansy for what happened. But it was just that, unfair. She’d merely introduced him to the girl; she didn’t make anything happen. Of course, he knew, she had expected it to happen, maybe even wanted it to happen. It had always seemed to be a matter of injured pride with her that in all their stops at the inn he’d never taken any of the other girls to bed despite their best efforts to woo him. Over the years it had almost become some sort of game with them. Each time the Brotherhood would stop in, Tansy and the girls would try just a little bit harder to get him out of his breeches. And every time he would manage to resist.

He never really knew why he was so stubborn about it, why he couldn’t just give in to their efforts. All the girls were pretty in their own way, and he was hardly without a desire to lie with a woman, but there was something that always held him back. Afterward, he understood why. Making it worse, Tansy also understood why. Of that he was absolutely sure. There was no mistaking the knowing look in her eye when she saw him eyeing her, no mistaking the true meaning of her words as she whispered in his ear, _I had plans to make a pretty penny on that one, but if you want it, I’d let you take her maidenhead for free. _Even now the words made his stomach clench.

At the time he hadn’t realized the connection, hadn’t known what had drawn him to the slight brown-haired girl with the dark eyes. But when he finally took her, he couldn’t help himself from thinking of someone else, of filling in the details that were lacking to push himself over the edge. Once he was done, he’d felt horrible about it. The poor girl had deserved better than that. He swore it would never happen again.

From that moment on, he hadn’t been able to lie to himself about his attraction to Arya. Before he’d always found artful ways to try and convince himself that wanting her specifically wasn’t what the dreams were about. He wasn’t just horny, he told himself. If he’d only lie with another woman, his ache for her would fade. But there was no explaining it away anymore. He had thought about her while he was inside another woman, imagining that he was touching her slightly larger breasts instead, that the warmth that surrounded him was hers. And he had thought of her with increasing frequency since, both sleeping and waking. Finally, after months of denial, of refusal to allow himself release at the thought of her once more, he had lost control. His pants were sticky and wet with the evidence of that much at least. Another wave of shame flooded him. She was supposed to be his friend, and he had repaid her kindness and friendship by coming in his pants at the thought of her.

He glanced over at her guiltily as he pondered the best way to hide what he had done. If he could manage to get to the basin of water on the table without waking her, he could clean himself up and she’d never need to know. But the bed was so narrow, that he feared that he would wake her if he moved. Carefully, he tried to climb over her, taking his time to keep from disturbing her. It was nerve raking, but finally he managed to make it the short distance to his only means of cleaning up. Before he could think better of what he was doing, he stripped off his soiled pants and began to wash them in the basin, wholly focused on the task of getting the stains out as quickly as possible. As he worked, lightning flashed vividly, so close that it lit up the room even through the shuttered window. A large boom of thunder followed almost at once. And the thunder was followed a few seconds later by a question, “What are you doing?”

Gendry froze at the sound of her voice. If he had taken the time to consider what might happen if he accidently woke her up, this would have been at the top if the list. The only refuge he had was the darkness. There was no way she could tell he was naked, washing his pants in the middle of the night in their pitch-black room. The thought had just occurred to him when he heard the striking of a match and the candle on the bedside table came alight. Unwillingly, he looked over at her.

Arya had had to stretch to reach the candle, and in the process the blankets had pulled down just enough for him to get a glimpse of her bare hip. His brain ground to a halt as it tried to make sense of the sight. An answer to her question was suddenly very far away. All he could do was stand there and stare at her. There was a hungry look in her eyes as they stared at each other. “It’s late,” she told him suddenly, “come back to bed.”

Slowly, Gendry’s mind began to pick up pace, filling in the details he had been too shocked to process. He was standing in front of her completely naked, the only pair of pants he had with him wet now with both water and traces of come, and not only did she seemed unfazed by the scene, she was asking him to get back into bed with her. The thought rooted him to the spot. She chuckled softly. “It’s alright,” she told him, pulling back the blankets for him. In the process he saw that sometime in the night she had discarded her small clothes and what little ability of higher thought he’d regained ground to a halt again.

The swatch of hair between her legs was darker than he had imagined, almost as black as his own. He found himself mesmerized by it, though he knew he should look away. The memory of the dream he’d had about her seemed so vivid now that his cock began to thicken as he stared. A soft gasp fell from her lips as she watched him as well. “You’re bigger than I remembered,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

The meaning of her words took root in his brain slowly, his tainted thought suggesting something he was sure she did not intend, but when he finally pulled his own eyes away from between her legs and glanced up at her proper, there was no denying that she was staring at his cock. Her eyes widened as he continued to grow. “Come to bed,” she told him again as she rolled onto her back, legs widening to give him a better view.

His cock twitched at the sight, but he finally found his voice. “I shouldn’t.”

But then again, there were many things he shouldn’t do, and he had already done most of them. His eyes continued to rove over her, drinking in the bare bits of skin he was able to see and imagining the bits he couldn’t. “Tell me what you want,” she told him.

_For you to put some bloody clothes on,_ he thought, but the words that came out of his mouth were, “to see.”

She didn’t wait for him to elaborate before she pulled her sleep shirt over her head, discarding the only bit of covering she’d possessed to shield her from his eyes. The second she was naked, she fell back onto the mattress, legs opening seductively again. He drank her in, eyes lingering on her small, pert breasts. They had featured in many of his recent impure thoughts. He could conjure without even trying the sight of them bouncing as she rode her horse hard through the woods. Afterward, at night, when he closed his eyes, she rode him instead of the horse. It was the first time he’d ever dreamt of lying with her, and he’d awoken alone, covered in come and the deepest shame.

Once he hadn’t ever wanted to dishonor her, even in his dreams, but now he stood there boldly, staring at her naked. It wasn’t right. He should tell her to put her clothes back on before going somewhere far, far away to wait out the rest of the storm. Then they could return to the Brotherhood, and he’d make sure they were never alone together again. Instead what he said was, “Why’d you take your small clothes off?”

Arya shrugged, breasts bouncing with the movement. “They were wet. Very, very wet.” She opened her legs just the slightest bit wider, the brief glimpse he got of her folds showed they were glistening. “That why you took your pants off, they wet too?” Her hand ran across the sheets beside her as she spoke, across the spot where he’d been lying beside her only minutes before. “Your groans helped,” she told him as she pulled her hand away. “Even more than my fingers.”

He opened his mouth in shock as her words rushed over him. Just the brief realization of what she was doing when he’d awoken earlier had sent him into a tailspin, the thought that she had continued once he was asleep… His cock throbbed. “Show me,” he said before he could stop himself.

It was the first thing that seemed to shock her, legs snapping together as she stared at him. But then, slowly, they began to part again, one of her hands sliding down between them. As he watched, she touched herself tentatively on the outside of her lips. Carefully, her finger dipped in and she hissed. He watched her intently as her legs fell open even more and he could see her fingers rubbing against herself better. This was what he had dreamt of, though he couldn’t have imagined the soft little moans that fell from her lips as she worked. Her touches seemed to be getting more urgent and she twisted around on the bed, unable to keep still all of a sudden. How had he slept through her pleasuring herself like this before?

His legs carried him the short distance to the bed and, before he could stop himself, he sat down on the very edge. The smell of her arousal was obvious now that he was closer. It was so intoxicating that he had to resist the urge to put his head between her legs to get closer to the source. Instead he crawled onto the bed beside her, arms pulling her naked body against his own. “Gendry,” she whispered softly, burrowing her head against his shoulder.

He answered her by sliding his hand between her thighs. His fingers touched her greedily, coming away wet with just the briefest brush against her. She shifted against him as he pushed his fingers inside of her. “This okay?” he asked her, running his thumb against the nub he’d seen her focusing on.

A soft moan fell from her lips. “Again,” she urged him.

He curled his fingers inside of her as he rubbed his thumb against her with the slightest bit more pressure. To his surprise, she fell apart against him with another soft moan. The hand he had curled around her mound was wet, and her walls were throbbing around his fingers. So that was what it really felt like when she came? His cock twitched at the thought, and he couldn’t resist the urge to rub it against her before he could think better of it. She sighed softly at the feel of him.

At last, he pulled his fingers out of her, taking in the sight of his hand covered in her release. In another life he’d see it again and again and again. He groaned at the thought, unable to keep himself from touch her further. Completely disregarding that he was covered in her come, he cupped her breast, flicking his thumb across her nipple. She moaned again, pushing her hips back against him. “Please,” she whispered softly, though he had no idea what she was begging him for.

He pinched her nipple playfully as she ground against him again. If she kept up what she was doing, he’d soon be in danger of coming all over her back. She seemed to like the pinches though, if the way the friction on his cock increased was any indication. “Arya…” he began.

She twisted against him, moving her hips carefully until her wet folds were pressed against his cock and slid herself against his length. The tip of his slipped inside her, but before she could press down further, Gendry reached down and held her hips steady. “Don’t,” he said, panic clear in his voice.

It took all of his willpower to hold her steady as she squirmed in his grasp. “Please,” she begged him again.

It killed him that he had to deny her, deny them both, but he’d already crossed the line as it was. He sighed against her. “I want to,” he told her, though he hated to admit such a failing to her, “You have no idea how much I want to, but we can’t.”

She stilled against him. There was an edge to her voice as she spoke. “Because I’m a highborn lady?” She scoffed at the thought. “And what if I wasn’t? Would you take me then? If I came to your bed as what you thought I was when we first met, another Flea Bottom urchin, and offered you my maidenhead, would you turn me away?”

The laugh that echoed around the room at her words was wrenched from him. “No,” he told her, still laughing though the laugh was bitter and came from a part of him buried so deep inside he hadn’t fully realized it was there. “No,” he repeated as she squirmed against him, trying to get out of his grip.

“Why not?” she snapped.

He knew the tone she used well, remembered it fondly from their many childhood fights. It wrenched his heart to hear it now. With a sigh he buried his face in her hair, lips so close to her ear his words came out as a whisper. “Because,” he told her, “you wouldn’t be a maiden. I would have parted your thighs a year ago, maybe more, and had you then.” She stilled against him once more. He groaned against her hair, hating the truth of the words welling up inside of him. “I would have had you as soon as I wanted you, and I probably would have already put a bastard in you by now.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth. “See,” he whispered after a moment, “being a highborn lady protects you from that at least.”

A heavy weight filled his stomach as he at last released her and turned back toward the wall. He hadn’t meant to be so frank with her, but he couldn’t take his words back now. They rested heavily between them as he struggled to fall back to sleep. He was just on the edge of unconsciousness when her voice rang out softly beside him, “But if I wasn’t highborn, our baby wouldn’t have to be a bastard.”

The words haunted him deep into his fitful sleep.


	3. Realizations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last there is an end. Hopefully you enjoy it. Thanks so much for reading!

Chapter 3: Realizations

Arya opened her eyes just after dawn to find that in their sleep, her and Gendry had rolled over so that they were facing each other. Their bodies were just close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off of him but just far enough away that they weren’t directly touching. She longed to reach out and touch him. Mere hours before she had touched him. Or he had touched her rather. Touched her in places that she longed for him to touch even before she knew that was what she wanted. The words of the woman from the Peach came back to her again, ‘Don’t you worry about it. The blacksmith makes us all a bit wet.’

The thought made her flush. Somehow other people had made the connection before even they had. Or was it just her that had still been in the dark until recently? Suddenly memories flooded her conscious mind. Gendry’s increasing insistence that they no longer share a bed. The feel of him against her when he lost the argument about sleeping on the floor, all tension and as far away as possible when they first laid down and then right up against her, arm usually draped over her and cock hard and pressed to her ass as he slept. The way he’d acted when he’d caught her touching herself and all his talk of not dishonoring her. And then less recent memories came. The time she’d fallen in the river as they were trying to catch fish and come up sputtering, her tunic clinging to her like a second skin. In hindsight she saw his eyes flick downward to where the fabric wrapped around the curve of her breast and the almost guilty look on his face when he’d quickly looked up again. That memory was followed by another. Them at a castle together, years before. The rest of the Brotherhood was inside with whoever their host was, but her and Gendry were in the yard. She was teasing him about something, or he was teasing her. It hardly mattered now. The only part of the exchange her mind focused on was the shoving, the falling, the wrestling in the dirt. It was a common activity for them then, rolling around together, but now she thought of it, they never wrestled again after that. Something happened as she squirmed against him, trying to get away from his tickling and pinching hands. Something she’d felt; something she hadn’t understood. She still didn’t really understand his look of horror or why he’d sprung away from her so quickly. What exactly had happened? She closed her eyes and watched the scene again, slowly and with a deliberate focus. Down in the dirt, her younger self pressed against the younger Gendry, and he felt different somehow than the last time they had wrestled like this, more muscular and solid. She felt a swooping sensation in her gut and pressed herself even firmer against him. It felt nice in his arms. There was something else she hadn’t felt before digging into her hip, and then suddenly his whole body was gone. And they never wrestled again.

Her eyes opened again with a sudden understanding to find Gendry awake and looking at her. His expression was hard to read, part cautious, part content. The pieces continued to put themselves together in her mind causing questions she’d never considered to spring to the surface. How long had he known that he wanted her? Her mind supplied an answer whispered in what sounded like his voice, ‘I would have parted your thighs a year ago, maybe more, and had you then.’ But the wrestling incident she’d remembered had been at least three years before. ‘I would have had you as soon as I wanted you,’ his voice in her head whispered. Had he not wanted her then? Or had she still been too young? Maybe she’d still been too much like the girl he’d met on the road escaping Kings Landing to consider bedding her then, but he had definitely gotten hard against her, a fact that had upset him at the time. Without meaning to, she broached the subject with him, “When did you know that you wanted to…” Suddenly she was lost for words, unsure how to finish the question.

His forehead wrinkled as her voice trailed off. She thought he knew what she was asking even if she hadn’t gotten all the words out. “I’m not sure exactly. I just kind of started thinking about you.”

“Without my clothes on,” she supplied.

A small chuckle fell from his lips. “Mostly without your clothes on, yes.” He looked sheepish all of a sudden. “I saw you bathing once a few years ago, by accident.”

The admission surprised her. “You never told me that.”

“I didn’t want you to think that I had been spying on you. As much as I wished that I had been. When I thought about it afterward, I always stayed to watch you. For the longest time I had this vision of you rising out of the water. It always made me…” His voice trailed off, the last word coming out so faint she could scarcely hear it, “come.”

She nodded, like she too had been secretly pleasuring herself to the thought of him for years. No, she’d just wanted him in secret, a secret she’d kept from even herself. “I think I wanted you too around that time,” she admitted. “I can’t remember the context, but we were wrestling around in a courtyard, I think, and I felt this whooshing in my gut, that’s the best I can explain it. But that’s how it feels when I get wet. When I’m around you, sometimes you’ll just look at me and “whoosh”. Like falling, I guess, but kind of tingly all over. I’d think of you without your clothes on too sometimes, when I’d feel the “whoosh”, but all I had were old memories from before the Brotherhood.”

His forehead creased again as he considered her words. “When was this?”

Arya shrugged. “I’m not sure when it happened, but I know it was the last time we ever wrestled.” She paused for a moment, unsure if she should go on. “I kept trying to get closer to you, but then you got hard and pulled away.”

A look of horror very similar to the one he’d had that day crossed Gendry’s face. “I remember that,” he whispered.

“Did you know that you wanted me then?”

He shook his head. “I went back to work, pushed down all thought of you, forgot even that that was the first time I’d ever gotten hard because of you.”

So they’d had their first longings for each other together, at the same time. The realization sat heavily in the inch of space that separated their naked bodies. They could take up their wrestling again, as they had that day, bodies twisting and turning and rubbing against each other until she was wet and he was hard. Except, she was already a little wet, and she suspected he was already hard. Without thinking she reached out and wrapped her hand around him, confirming her suspicions. He was thick and sturdy, his pulse beating against her hand. And she had no clue what she was supposed to do. “Show me how you’d pleasure yourself as you thought of me,” she whispered.

Gendry nodded, his hand circling hers around his cock. Slowly at first, he guided her hand up and down his length, showing her how to grip him for the best results. The dark hair that surrounded his base tickled her hand on the downward strokes and her hand came away sticky on the upward ones. “You get wet too,” she observed as their hands circled his tip for the fourth or fifth time.

“A little,” he acknowledged. “Here, you can see.”

As he spoke, he pushed the blankets off of them so she could see him more clearly and eased her hand back up to his tip before letting his own had fall away. The sticky wetness seemed to be coming from a small opening at the top of the shaft. Arya watched a little more leak out, an almost translucent pearly white. “Does it always look like that?” she asked, memorized by the sight.

“No,” he told her, “it’s darker when I come.” He suddenly looked sheepish again and wouldn’t meet her eye, but he made no move to stop her from continuing to touch him.

His cock twitched in her hand as a thought came to her, something she’d seen one of the girls do at the Peach. Carefully, she leaned forward and wrapped her lips around his tip. A loud hiss fell from Gendry’s lips. “What are you doing?”

She pulled away reluctantly. “Do you not like it?”

He looked guilty as he muttered, “of course I like it.” Suddenly he couldn’t meet her eyes.

The silence stretched between them as she tried to puzzle out what she was supposed to do. After a moment, eyes locked on his face, she bent down and ran her tongue over his tip, collecting the salting fluid that was leaking out of him. He hissed again in response, so she did it again. His hips jerked away from her, almost involuntarily. “You’ll make me come,” he warned. “And I don’t want to come yet.”

Arya longed to ask why not, but even as the question formed on her tongue, his hand slid between her thighs. Without thinking she laid down on her back, legs falling apart to give him better access. His fingers brushed along her folds with just the barest amount of pressure until she felt the teasing might drive her insane. On one hand, she wanted him to hurry up and make her feel all the things his fingers and made her feel before, and on the other, she wanted him to go on touching her forever. His calloused thumb brushed across the bump at the top of her lips suddenly, igniting sparks the tingled down to her toes. A soft moan fell from her lips as he repeated the motion. “Please,” she whispered, begging for more.

Two fingers pushed deep inside of her and curled against her walls. Staying still as he explored her suddenly seemed impossible. She squirmed against him on the bed, hands searching for something to hang on to. Her right hand ended up wound in her own hair, her left hand wrapped around his cock. A hiss fell from his lips and his thumb brushed across her nub once more. She stroked her hand up and down his length, trying to keep in time with the fingers probing within her. The room around them echoed with the sounds of their pleasure. A third finger slid inside of her with the other two and she groaned. He seemed to know just what she needed, the pressure building within her until it was just about to burst, and then suddenly his hand was gone.

She lay their panting heavily, the waves of pleasure receding. Even rubbing her legs together did little to ease the ache. She wanted to throttle him for stopping just as she was about to come, but when she turned to see him gazing at her, she suddenly lost the willpower. “I was about to come,” she told him pointedly.

“I know,” he replied with a wolfish grin. His admission brought back to urge to throttle him, but he moved away from her before she had the chance.

Gendry sat just out of her reach and gazed down at her uncertainly for a moment before he reached out and carefully parted her legs again. Another long pause followed as his attention became focused solely on the dark thatch of hair between her thighs. He’d looked at her like that before, right before he’d pulled her toward him and touched her the first time. She expected he’d touch her again. Maybe he’d merely stopped before because he wanted her to come while she was in his arms again. The thought made her hot all over. She found she wanted that too, for him to hold her against him as the pleasure overwhelmed her. But instead of lying back down beside her and pull her to him, he leaned forward until his head was between her thighs and inhaled deeply. “You smell even better than I imagined.” He took another deep inhale and sighed.

His breath was hot against her folds, and she felt her walls contracting at the sensation of having him so close. He reached out and dug his fingers into her thighs, pulling her even closer to his face until his nose was buried in the hair the covered her. She wondered what he was going to do next just as his tongue darted out and touched that part of herself she’d found gave her so much pleasure. A sound came from deep inside of her, something guttural and raw as her folds twitched. His tongue ran over her again, more purposefully this time, the rough drag of his tongue a sensation she couldn’t have even begun to imagine. He groaned loudly and released his grip on her thighs.

Arya’s hips fell back to the mattress as she got the first real glimpse of him since he’d crawled between her thighs. The look on his face was torn, a war raging within him as his eyes roved over her body, from her bare breasts to the mound at the base of her spread legs. His hand slid forward, loosely grasping his cock at the base and gripping until his knuckles turned white. He looked painfully hard, and he hissed at just the slightest contact. “Gendry, what’s wrong?” she whispered.

His eyes snapped up to her own, the hand not holding onto his cock reaching between her legs, fingertip slipping just past her lips. They maintained eye contact as he touched her, careful to avoid the spot that sent sparks shoot through her. She suspected she knew what war raged within him now. A thousand things begged to be said, a million pleas on the edge of her lips, but she knew that it was better not to utter them. After, if he gave in, she’d whisper them to him, assure him that it was what she wanted as she begged him to take her again.

The hand between her legs fell away, as did the one holding his cock. He shifted again, crawling toward her until he hovered over her, hands on either side of her head. She held her hips steady as the storm continued to wage behind his eyes, as his own hips shifted and his cock rubbed against her folds. He hissed loudly as they finally came into contact, moving his hips first this way then that until the tip of his cock was positioned at her entrance. As their eyes met, he looked almost like he was in pain. And then a second later it was bliss as his hips snapped forward and he took her maidenhead.

Arya gasped as he filled her, the sensation not entirely pleasant as she adjusted to the intrusion. It wasn’t like having his fingers inside of her. His cock was much thicker, and her walls had to stretch to accommodate him as he buried himself deep inside of her. He paused for a moment before ease out of her again. A sudden fear overwhelmed her that he was stopping, but as soon as only the tip of him remained inside of her, he began to push back in, slower this time, the drag of his cock sending shockwaves through her. She wrapped her legs around his back as he repeated the motion over again. And then her hands were reaching up to him, running through his hair, pulling him down against her. His breath was hot in her ear as he fucked her almost lazily. “Arya,” he groaned almost painfully. And she expected him to tell her this was a mistake or that it shouldn’t have happened. Instead he whispered, “I dreamt of this.”

Her walls twitched around him at his words. The movement of his hips seemed unhurried still, but she sensed the urgency beneath the control as he whispered other things to her. About how long he’d wanted her and all the times he’d denied himself the pleasure of release at the thought of her. He told her about watching her ride the horse and how after he’d dreamt that the one she rode was him. She promised him next time she would ride him, but all he did was groan and reach down to cup her breast.

The pressure that had waned earlier was building again, her body seeking the sweet bliss it had found with both his finger and her own. She clamped her legs around him tighter, holding him closer as her walls clamped down on him too. In the moment she realized that this was how they were meant to be. From that first meeting, everything was building to this. “You should have taken me years ago,” she told him as the hand on her breast slipped between them to rub the spot just above where they were joined.

Gendry shook his head. “I wanted to, so many times.”

The pressure of his thumb was out of rhythm with the movement of their hips, the disparity sending little sparks down to her curling toes. She was finding it harder and harder to meet his hips. Something was just on the verge of happening. She could feel it building, so close to the edge. And then suddenly she burst, her walls fluttering rapidly around his cock as it continued to drive into her. There was something frantic about his movements against her. He groaned her name in her ear, a warning of some kind, but in the haze of bliss that had descended around her, she couldn’t process what he was saying until he was suddenly pulling out of her and collapsing on the bed beside where she lay.

Sheepishly, she looked over at him, lying there panting loudly. His cock still stood at attention, very hard and wet with her release. Without considering what she was doing, Arya moved over to him and straddled his cock. They groaned in unison as he slid back inside of her. She shifted her hips against his carefully. “Was this what you dreamed of?”

He left out another groan that didn’t sound solely from pleasure. “It was faster, harder. But don’t.”

The last words had barely slipped out before her hips were snapping against him franticly. Being on top of him drove his cock in at a different angle, and she felt herself tightening around him again. “Is this better?” she panted out.

His face looked pained again as he reached out and grabbed her hips. “I’m going to come,” he told her as she continued to move against him.

Her walls were fluttering again, the tension building. “Arya,” he said again, warningly.

The dam broke again, cascades of pleasure overwhelming her as he groaned beneath her. Their hips stilled, and she eased off of him. Something wet leaked down her thighs when she moved, and she noticed that his cock wasn’t hard anymore but looked even wetter. Her mind was too muddled to consider the connection those two facts posed. Instead, she collapsed beside him, every part of her pleasantly spent. Gendry sighed heavily and pulled her body back against his own. “Next time we need to be more careful,” he whispered to her.

“Hmm,” she mumbled, only half acknowledging his words as she snoozed beside him,

He made no further attempted to rouse her into conversation, instead letting sleep take them both for a time. And when they rose again shortly afterward, despite his words of warning the time before, he made no effort not to spill inside of her.


End file.
